


Countdown to Survival

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Biting, Bottom Shiro Week 2020, Bruises, Choking, Community: seasonofkink, Episode: s01e09 Crystal Venom, Forced Arousal, Gallows Humor, Heartbeats, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Marking, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, One-sided Sendak/Shiro, Panic Attacks, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Rape/Non-con, Pining Shiro/Keith, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: Set during Crystal Venom. As Shiro stands guard over Sendak, he remembers being in captivity, and everything the Galra soldier put him through.A heavy story of PTSD, OCD, and survival with a strong rape warning. Please exercise caution and/or avoid reading if anything in the tags is distressing.** Written for Season of Kink and Bottom Shiro Week 2020. Prompts in Author Notes.*
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Sendak/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34
Collections: Bottom Shiro Week 2020, Season of Kink





	Countdown to Survival

_ ‘One, two, three… _

_ One, two, three… _

_ One, two…’ _

In a dark and quiet corridor, aboard the Castle of Lions, Shiro counted.

_ ‘One…’ _

Quickly glancing down each part of the long hallway, only the modest glow from wall lights permitting him to keep watch, Shiro returned his wary eyes to the chamber before him.

He crossed his arms, and sighed.

_ ‘Dammit, I shouldn’t have lost count.’ _

Miscalculations were costly, a painful lesson Shiro learned more often than he would have liked. Counting had always been his security, a quick tap to clear his head of the screams, his own mostly.

_ ‘One, two, three… _

_ One, two, three…’ _

His survival in the gladiator ring relied upon it - by watching, waiting, and counting. He saw the patterns to those strikes, and struck out with his own.

His dreams of escape felt only possible with that method, recognising the counting patterns to the prison patrol. Counting and waiting, listening for that perfect moment, and acting accordingly.

_ ‘One, two, three…’ _

Everything always came in threes - one risk, one possibility, one certainty. A finger tapped against his prosthetic arm, the faint sound offering a small comfort each time, followed by an existential horror that eased slightly with the next.

Shiro  _ hated _ it, but most of all, he loathed himself for surrendering to the endless spiral of doubt. The power of three only reassured him for a second, until the doubt clouded him again.

Even before Kerberos, Shiro found himself doing it, which made leaving his quarters first thing a hassle.

_ ‘Did I check? _

_ Did I really check? Maybe I’d better… just in case…’ _

Shiro smiled bitterly, still remembering the cool door lock to his shared home.  _ ‘My old nemesis. The front door. Nearly drove Adam mad every morning…’ _

The smile fell.

He wasn’t exactly sure when it all started. Sometimes, he thought it might have been his brain catastrophising every little thing so much, a coping mechanism against tragedy. He also speculated if it was a reaction against the side effects of his medication, the kind that made him foggy and forgetful.

His keys. His identification.

Locking the door. Turning the heater off.

Saying goodbye.

Counting, tapping, recollection, should have been his safety net.

Shiro glared uneasily at the glass chamber before him, an all too familiar figure sleeping inside.

If there was one thing Shiro knew without a shadow of a doubt, he knew what made everything worse.

Being captured. Not knowing the fates of Sam and Matt. And when  _ he _ came for him in that rusted, blood stained hellhole.

_ Without _ fail.

It was a torture Sendak implemented well in simply arriving at a prison cell. He arrived precisely when he meant to - sometimes at one, other times on two, but never,  _ ever _ , on three.

Who could have imagined that every literal second grew even more torturous to a man who relied on numbers? Eventually, in a cruel twist, the number three became a small respite, a fleeting second of time from hearing those heavy footsteps heralding the bloodthirsty warrior at his door.

_ ‘The only time a locked door didn’t protect me. Story of my life.’ _

But that nightmare was over. Shiro was safe now.

In an ironic twist, Sendak was the imprisoned one, unconscious inside that pod. He couldn’t hurt Shiro, and more importantly, the others, from in there.

Suddenly, Shiro heard a door activating further down the hall, and his stomach dropped. He tried to rationalise it -  _ ‘It’s okay, Shiro, it’s probably Lance lost looking for the pool room again, it’s a big ship after all. Or maybe Keith heading to the training room.’ _

But his entire body didn’t buy it.

When Shiro turned back to the enemy, his blood ran cold. The sliver of a smirk that bore predatory fangs, and a penetrating stare greeted him. He swore he heard that cruel laughter, suffocating the sound of his own quickened breathing.

In that one horrifying moment, Shiro re-lived  _ everything _ .

_ ‘One…’ _

Sendak’s many visits. Barking one hard order at him - “ _ Strip.” _ Fighting back with an already weakened body, only to be subdued with relative ease.

_ ‘Two…’ _

Being thrown against a metal doorway, nearly being knocked out -  _ ‘wouldn’t that have been a blessing.’  _ Visibly withdrawing at the feeling of that overpowering hard body pressed against his back.

_ ‘No, out… I want out…’ _

But the memory kept replaying, skipping and starting, like a broken tape.

Sendak violently tearing his clothing, leaving him with next to nothing on. An entire exposed body telling a story of captivity, scars licking across him with varying levels of intensity.

_ ‘...I can’t…’ _

Lacerations screamed into his flesh, while others came from a bloodthirsty blade. The blinding violet lights burned into his eyes, illuminating everything he never wished to see, and wanted to remember.

In all it’s garish, merciless horror.

_ ‘Stop…!’ _

Sendak’s claws ran down his bruised back, a most perverse signature on his skin. It was worse than any weapon, any blade, with a terrible intimacy to it because Sendak’s aim was to mark him as his.

Nothing more than another conquest to the Galra, who took and marked what belonged to them by force.Long gone were the days of being shirtless, not when he looked like…

_ ‘This…’ _

Shiro’s knees buckled, arms wrapping around his body to repel  _ everything _ . Despite backing to the far side wall, he  _ felt _ it.

Fangs sinking into his neck, claiming him the exact way a Galra took a mate. The “honour” of being considered Sendak’s mate did little to ease the distressing reality of what he endured. His physical prowess in the Arena guaranteed that, along with a promise.

_ “The kid’s off limits.” _

As long as Shiro obeyed.

_ ‘...O-One…’ _

And he did in one crushing, violent night after another.

The first time was a burst of pain worse than anything ever experienced. As if claiming his body wasn’t bad enough, Sendak made it his given right to take what was his.

And Shiro belonged to him.

_ ‘...Two…’ _

Shiro was no longer in that cramped, secluded hallway, but trapped within that familiar rotten hell where the scent of sweat and flesh choked him.

Even his skin felt bruised, a phantom trickle of blood running down his leg. Everything was hypersensitive and working overtime. He tried to scream for help only to be strangled by…. Sendak’s large hands? Every breath was smothered by the hold that the Galra literally had over him.

How often had he awakened to a rough, bruised throat?

His lungs tightened, unable to shake the lulling sight of Sendak towering over him, grinding and thrusting and strangling him.

But Shiro’s greatest shame, something Sendak took great delight in, was his own body responding, stirring.  


_ “That’s it. You want it, don’t you?” _

“No!” Shiro shook his head, trying to rid himself of that cruel voice. “I don’t want this!”

Even without moving those lips, Sendak’s voice reached Shiro, loud and clear.  _ “Of course you do. Look at you.” _

_ ‘One, two, three…’  _ Shiro repeated, tapping the blood stained wall with his finger.  _ ‘One, two…’ _

_ “We’re connected, you and me. Both part of the Galra Empire.” _

“No!” Shiro screamed, struggling to break free. He couldn’t do this anymore. He  _ had _ to get out. “I’m not like you! I’m nothing like you!”

_ “You’ve been broken and reformed. Just look at your hand.” _

Shiro’s horrified gaze found that chilling metal forming his hand and extending up his arm. Nothing would get rid of that painful memory, of them separating him from his arm.

Why had they done that to him? What more had they done while he was lying there, helpless?

Shiro clutched at that Galran metal, wishing he could tear it off. “That’s not me!”

_ “Of course it is,”  _ Sendak continued, his voice worming it’s way into Shiro’s brain.  _ “It’s the strongest part of you. Embrace it. The others don't know what you know. They haven't seen what you've seen. Face it. You'll never beat Zarkon. He's already defeated you.” _

Once more, Shiro pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block everything out. The sight of that rusted prison, the scent of their own bodies in close proximity, the sounds of grunting and his own shaky breaths, the feeling of…

Shiro shot back, shaking his head. “I’m not listening to you!”

_ “Do you really think a monster like you could be a Voltron Paladin? You're our little plaything, playing Paladin hero. You’re nothing more than breeding stock, a mate to be taken and used. _

_ My own little monster.” _

Finally, Shiro snapped.

_ “Stop it!” _

He lashed out, slamming his fists at the chamber, and just like that, Sendak was gone. Shiro was alone, back in that cool corridor, his metal fist spreading spider cracks against glass. An emergency flash temporarily blinded his vision, but he paid no heed.

An empty chamber faced him, but those taunting words remained.

_ “You’re a monster… Nothing more than a breeding mate, my own little monster…” _

The cruel, unrelenting violation, that toxic voice naming him a monster,  _ look at him, a broken thing, unable to lead, he was no Paladin… _

A monster, unworthy of the Black Lion, undeserving of loved ones. Unworthy of being anything more than a warrior’s plaything.

Sweat glistened on his forehead, slicking his white fringe. Suddenly, he heard muffled voices.

“Shiro!”

“Shiro, are you okay?”

He backed to the side, carefully assessing his company, only to find his friends there.

Hunk. Pidge. Lance.

_ Keith. _

“Shiro,” Keith’s familiar voice reached to him. “Where’s Sendak?”

“I…” Shiro kept glancing frightfully at the empty pod as he shook. “I had to get him out of here. I was hearing his voice. He…” He swallowed a deep lump in his throat. “He can’t be trusted on this ship.”

_ ‘That’s right… If he stayed, he might have hurt them, hurt…’ _

His back felt like it was on fire.

Suddenly, Lance shook his head. “It’s the ship.” As the Blue Paladin recounted all the strange events, from him being trapped in a cyro-pod to Hunk and Pidge being assaulted by the food processors in the kitchen, Shiro frowned.

Uneasily, he tried to push all his own fears aside, determined to thwart whatever was happening inside the ship. His friends mattered most, and he could not let them be subject to more harm.

But as they raced towards the Bridge where the Princess was, Shiro obsessed over Lance’s words. Remembering Sendak’s smirk and his terrible words, he wondered…

Was it really the ship?

xxx

After the harrowing ordeal, everyone prepared to turn in for the night.

Allura said very little after losing the last piece she had of her father, and Coran stood by her side, offering her support. Even Lance was uncharacteristically quiet, still trembling after his near death experience in the air lock.

Hunk and Pidge led their friends out of the bridge, leaving only Shiro there, staring out at the stars. He knew Keith remained, wanting to ask if he was okay. But what would he say? That he heard his tormentor, his...  _ rapist _ , re-living his experience with unflinching clarity?

_ “You’ll always be mine. _

_ My little monster.” _

He wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to swallow everything down, and never talk about it again. What good came of dredging it all back up, upsetting Keith again?

That’s the last thing he wanted to do.

“Shiro…”

That soft voice was so soothing, inviting him in. Footsteps came close, and Shiro froze, trying not to think of the prison.

_ ‘It’s only Keith, wanting to help.  _

_ He’s good. Too good.’ _

His lips tightened. He wanted to pour his heart out, to say something, anything to help Keith understand. But nothing seemed right, not when that first time made him feel guilty for laying so much on him.

He couldn’t falter, not when everyone needed him.

“How’s Allura holding up?”

Keith frowned, but answered. “She’ll be okay. She’s tough.” Taking in Shiro’s tight smile, his downcast eyes, Keith persisted. “Wanna talk?”

Shiro gazed out at the star fields, wishing with all his heart that he could cast himself out there too, into the great beyond. But then, he feared polluting such a mesmerising sight with his mess.

His terrible, awful mess.

As always, Keith opened up. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I wish that were true, Keith.”

Shiro balked. He hated how easily his gallows humour came out, forged in the fire of his own suffering. He wanted to stay positive, to not be that guy who wallowed in his own misery.

Against the star speckled glass, Shiro saw his own reflection, and he wondered if this was the Shiro others saw in him? A strong Shiro. A brave Shiro. A kind, loving Shiro.

Or just a hollow hunk pretending to be the real thing? Because the real Shiro had lost so much since his days in captivity, perhaps even himself.

_ ‘Heh… Talk about going from hero to zero…’ _

Suddenly, a nearby star flashed, casting a red light into the room. Those same stars reflected on the front window became blood spatter in the mirage. Shiro froze, as if trapped in that one point in time he could never escape.

His breathing laboured, reminded of blood stained prison cells, his own hands, and the crowds baying for more.

Screwing his eyes shut and smothering his ears to block out  _ everything _ , Shiro was unable to run nor hide - the blinding light and searing pain, the cheering that sounded too much deafening screaming.

His own screams underneath Sendak.

Facing him again, only to realise he was no stronger than he had been when in his possession.

_ “My little monster.” _

“You’re not a monster, Shiro!”

Somehow, he heard Keith. He lifted his hands away, his eyes fluttering open, and he saw Keith standing close. The redness softened, residing less like blood and more like a gentle ember.

It was unmistakable. Keith’s presence as it always had been, and it all started from those soft dark eyes, offering Shiro a safe place.

He didn’t have to pretend, or face his fears alone with Keith.

A hand clasped his, a prosthetic of Galra metal, placing it against Keith’s own chest. Between the urge to run away screaming, and just compelling the universe itself to leave him be, Shiro was lost.

But Keith was there to help him find his way back.

“Shiro,” Keith whispered, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Listen to my heart. Focus on the heartbeats.”

And so, Shiro tried, navigating the perilous maxes of his own memories and living nightmares to find that strong and steady heartbeat, guiding him home.

It took time, but eventually, Shiro managed to escape the blinding torture, the vicious assault, and those terrible words, latching onto Keith in that moment.

The strong heart against his metal fingers, reminding him he could feel warmth. The sound of that trembling voice lulling him to calm.

Keith was real. That moment was real.

Everything returned to a comforting rhythm, and Shiro recognised it. He returned to his counting -  _ ‘one, two, three’ _ \- while Keith joined him in the breathing. It was something that connected them both, something they both benefited from, and as Keith gazed into Shiro’s eyes, he basked in the gentle dark oceans.

Once Shiro felt his heartbeat steady, the counting ceasing, he managed to meet Keith’s eyes.

“Keith… thank you. I don’t deserve…”

The Red Paladin interrupted with a gentle shush, smiling warmly. “Hey. Don’t you dare, Shiro. I’ll never give up on you. You’ve always been my rock. Let me be yours too… okay?”

As much as that demon inside him screeched, demanding not to trust anything, Shiro… did. He wanted to. He  _ needed _ to.

Keith meant the world to him, even if he could never tell him any day soon.

Shiro’s fingers entwined with his, enjoying that warmth in those soft hands, hands he trusted would never hurt him. If anything, they would protect him to his final day.

It would take time, but Shiro believed they could get there - to a place where Shiro was no longer a monster, and perhaps someone out there could love him again.

Perhaps someone like Keith.

But in that blissful moment, fatigued from that day’s events, Shiro rubbed his eyes, only to find Keith gently urging him to rest. Eventually, the Black Paladin obeyed, finding himself resting his head on Keith’s chest, listening to that calm, relaxing heartbeat.

Fingers gently ran through his hair, stroking his head, and helping him reach a pleasant place of sleep. All the while, Keith continued to whisper to Shiro, conveying all the things he had dreamed of saying since the other man disappeared.

How much he meant to him, how perfect he was, how strong and brave he had been all this time, but he had returned to them, returned to Keith, and Keith would always protect him.

“Because I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Season of Kink, Free Space prompt. Also written for Bottom Shiro Week for the prompts Against the Door, Heartbeat Kink, Praise Kink, Declaration of Love, Biting/Bruising/Marking, Breathplay/Choking, Held Captive/Imprisonment, Knife Play/Weapon, Dub-con/Non-con.
> 
> Oh. Oh boy. This evolved.
> 
> Originally, it was set to be a much shorter, focused Shendak piece set during Shiro’s imprisonment, but as I began to write, I had a desire to blend past and present, creating a story that showcased PTSD since that was one of the strongest character points to early Shiro that I wished they explored more.
> 
> I also wanted to explore more the aftermath and Shiro’s PTSD than just the event itself. I wanted Shiro, first and foremost, to be the focus.
> 
> Crystal Venom is one of my favourite episodes for the way they wrote Shiro’s PTSD (and Allura’s emotional conflict too,) so naturally, it became the new setting for the story.
> 
> OCD also comes in, and admittedly, most of this is from my own experiences. The counting, the checking, tapping, catastrophising cycles are very much my own experiences, so I drew from that while tying it into PTSD, another condition I live with.
> 
> Without going into a lot of detail, this story is definitely one of the most personal I’ve written for a whole lot of reasons, and a lot of energy and emotion went into it. Bringing Keith into it was a decision outwidth my earlier planning stages, and he just naturally fit. Ending on a bad or distressing note didn’t feel right, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, fanfics that offer hope and a silver lining after enduring great hardships have been lifelines and reassurances for readers.
> 
> I want to offer that too, for the writers that offered the same to me.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. ❤️


End file.
